


Strange Magic

by merelypassingtime



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Banter, Bookstores, Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), Fluff, M/M, Small Part for Everyone's Favorite, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 10:00:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15970031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelypassingtime/pseuds/merelypassingtime
Summary: Tony stumbles into an occult bookshop, looking for candles and directions. Instead he finds Stephen.





	Strange Magic

**Author's Note:**

> So many thanks to both no-reason-at-all and grandraconteur for beta reading this for me!

Tony couldn’t really say he was running late for the shareholder’s meeting, mainly because he’d never really planned to go. He could, however, say that he was hopelessly lost, and while that would make for an excellent excuse for missing said meeting later, that didn’t help him get home now.

He thought he was at least still in Manhattan, though he’d never heard of Bleecker Street before. After several more minutes of walking failed to turn up any familiar streets or a subway station, Tony started looking half-heartedly for any place he might be able to ask directions. Unfortunately, the street seemed to be mainly residential, without so much as a corner bodega for him to pop into. It wasn’t until his second, slightly more desperate scan of the street that he saw the small carved sign above a plain wooden door. It said: 

**Kamar-Taj**  
Metaphysical and Occult Books  
_Everything you need for your soul’s journey_

Still, he might have walked right past it if it weren’t for the additional handwritten paper on the door that said all scented candles were buy one get one free.

The last guest who’d stayed the night with him had accused his apartment of smelling like a cross between a garage and an distillery. Granted, it had been during the winding down of a truly epic party, but the guy had made a valid point. Maybe Tony could use some candles, and if he could get directions too, so much the better. 

Walking up to the door, he pulled the handle, only to have the door remain shut tight. When a second tug didn’t even budge it he began to think the store might be closed after all. “Oh, come on. Really?” Tony muttered, trying the knob one last time. This time he pushed in, and the door swung open easily, too easily when he’d be prepared to push hard and he stumbled forward into the store. Only several quick steps and a collision with a thankfully solid bookcase kept him from falling flat on his face.

Behind him the door swung closed again, the creaking of its hinges sounding more like laughter than they had any natural right to. 

He straightened up, releasing his grip on the shelf, and looking around surreptitiously, checking to see if anyone had seen his embarrassing stumble. Luckily, the shop appeared empty except for the worker sitting behind the counter. Unfortunately, that worker was very possibly the most attractive man Tony had seen in his recent memory. Possibly ever.

From what Tony could see over the top of the glass counter, the man looked maybe a few years younger than him. He was slim and pale, with an unruly mop of dark brown hair that Tony instantly wanted to tangle his fingers in.

He looked at Tony sardonically over the top of his book, one dramatic eyebrow raised above gorgeous blue-green eyes, and a smirk dancing across impossible, lovely lips. 

And there stood Tony, rumpled, out of breath and off-balance, as much from the presence of the striking man as from his near fall through the doorway. As smoothly as he could, he finished brushing off his clothes, straightened his sunglasses, and threw the man what he hoped was a confident grin. He’d turned worse first impressions into dates, and he was hoping he would do so this time too.

Clearing his throat, Tony put on a wry smile and said, “You really should get that door looked at.”

“We should,” the man agreed, his voice deep and full of sarcasm. “Usually it does a better job keeping out the riff-raff.”

Tony felt his smile grow, he loved the sassy ones, but he tried to sound convincingly offended. “Riff-raff? Is that any way to talk to your customers?”

“Oh sorry, _sir_ ,” the man said, putting his book down on the glass-topped counter with a thunk as he stood up. “What can I help you find?”

Tony took a second to appreciate the man’s height, adding yet another check in the ‘Oh yes please!’ column, before he registered the words on the black tee the man was wearing: “Don’t join dangerous cults, practice safe sects” and it was only with a herculean effort that he restrained himself from proposing marriage on the spot. Instead, he sent a prayer to all the gods of gay romance that he wasn’t about to run headlong into a straight wall and said with more than a little flirtation, “I think I’ve already found what I was looking for.” 

The man’s dark brows arched even further towards his hairline, but the look on his face wasn’t rejection and when he answered his voice was a shade deeper, treacherously close to a seductive purr. “Great. By all means, let me check you out and get you on your way.”

“You are more than welcome to check me out, but I’m not sure I’m ready to leave,” Tony said, and sauntered over to the counter. Or at least he tried to.

As he was passing a rack of knitted hats, scarves, and other outerwear, almost to the counter, he stumbled again. Somehow, one of the capes wrapped itself around his ankle, and he found he was once again grabbing for support to keep from falling flat on his face. This time the counter was close enough to save him, though he hit it hard enough that the metal edge bit cruelly into his palms.

“Whoa, careful!” the man said, one hand reaching halfway towards Tony as if to catch him. “And you, behave!”

“I’m sorry?” Tony said, with more than a little question in his voice at the seeming non-sequitur. Glancing up, Tony realized the man hadn’t been directing the remark at him but rather at something over his shoulder. He turned his head to see who else was in the shop, but, aside from a brief flash of red in his peripheral vision that he may have imagined, they were alone.

After a last glare at the empty room, the man turned his attention back to Tony. “Mmm? Oh sorry, I wasn’t talking to you. Though, you do seem to still be having a lot of trouble with the basics of walking. Do you think that’s because your ego is too big for your head to hold?”

“Hey now! You hardly know me.”

“Some things don’t take a genius to spot.”

“Is that so?” Taking a chance, Tony over reached out to tap at the black plastic name tag attached to the man’s shirt. “I suppose it’s hard to hide much from someone whose job title is ‘Master of the Mystic Arts.’ Should I use your full title or can I just call you ’Master’?”

“A bit early for Master,” he replied with a quirk of his lips. “You can call me Stephen.”

Holding out a hand to shake, Tony said, “Nice to meet you, Stephen. I’m-

Ignoring the hand, Stephen interrupted, “Tony Stark, I know.”

“Well, color me impressed.”

“Too easily. I think you’d be hard pressed to find anyone who doesn’t know the famous Tony Stark.”

“True,” Tony conceded. “Though I’m surprised you’re willing to give away the secret behind your trick like that.”

“And I’m surprised you’re impressed by little tricks.”

“Well, anytime you’d like to impress me with a big trick, feel free.”

The smile Stephen gave him in reply was slightly unsettling. “I wouldn't make it a challenge. I could show you magic that would blow your mind.”

“I doubt it. Luckily, I don’t think you’d need magic to blow my mind.”

Stephen smirked. “Not a big believer in magic are you?”

“No, not really,” Tony answered with a shrug.

Stephen’s smirk grew. Cryptically, he said, “Neither was I once.” Before Tony could follow up on that, Stephen abruptly changed the topic. “So, what brings you in today?”

Tony nodded back towards the door, “The candle sale. I was hoping to make my place a bit more romantic.”

“What scent do you have in mind?”

“I dunno, what do you recommend?”

“Well, we sell a lot of patchouli and sage.”

“Thanks but no thanks,” Tony grimaced. “I am not looking to attract hippies and incite reefer madness. What should I get if I was looking to attract, oh, say, men who work in occult book stores and have a taste for horrible puns?”

To Tony’s delight, what was possibly a faint blush bloomed on Stephens’ pale cheek. Still Stephen managed to sound cool and businesses-like as he cocked his head and theatrically rubbed his chin in thought before saying, “Well, I don’t know anyone who fits that description, but I think men who professionally help others on their path to spiritual awakening and appreciate puns as the highest form of humor really like the bourbon vanilla candle.”

“Mmm, great,” Tony said. “I’ll take two then.”

“They’re over there; get it yourself.”

“Such customer service!” Tony exclaimed in mock outrage. “Maybe I should demand to speak to your manager.”

Expecting a continuation to their flirting, Tony wasn’t ready for Stephen’s bark of laughter. “Oh, I’d love to see you try. She’d eat you alive then leave you for dead on Everest.”

“What?”

“Just a figure of speech,” Stephen said, but unholy amusement still burned in his eyes. “Want me to call her?”

“Er, on second thought maybe I’ll just grab those candles instead.”

“Unexpectedly wise of you,” Stephen said, moving to sit back on his stool. He waved towards the back of the store vaguely and added, “Do be careful not to fall on your way.”

“Oh, I think I’ve already fallen pretty hard,” Tony shot back with a bold wink.

Stephen rolled his eyes heavenward, but Tony noticed the color was back on his face as it disappeared behind his book. He almost whistled a happy tune on his way to the candle display, but decided it would be better to watch where his feet were going instead. 

A few minutes later he was back at the counter, this time juggling four candles.

Stephen watched him place the candles next to the register but made no move to get up. “Decided to go big, I see.”

“Well, the vanilla bourbon was lovely enough on its own, but I thought it’d be better paired off with these.” 

Curiosity seemed to get the better of him, and Stephen stood to look. “Sandalwood and cedar. Bold. I think they should mix well,” He said as he rang the candles up. “That’ll be 40 dollars.”

“No tax?”

“Nah, we’re taxing enough without it.”

Tony laughed dutifully as he handed over two twenties. Realizing his time was running out, he cleared his throat and ventured, “You know, I really could use an expert opinion on the candles and how well they suit the feng shui of my apartment. Maybe if you’re free tonight…”

“Sorry, no.” Stephen answered as he closed the old fashioned register with a decisive click. He must have seen the crestfallen look flash across Tony’s face because he rushed on, “No, I’d love to, really, but I’m genuinely busy tonight and tomorrow at least, between this and studying. Maybe later?” 

“Oh, of course, I understand. When would work best for you?”

“My schedule here is a bit erratic. Could you call me later in the week so we can work it out?”

“That’d be great. What’s your number?”

Stephen gave him a patronizing smile. “What? You don’t think you’re clever enough to figure it out on your own? Guess all those articles calling you the da Vinci of our age were wrong.”

“Oh, okay. Kind late to be playing hard to get isn’t it? But I accept your challenge.” Tony thought it would be easy enough to find the store’s number if nothing else.

“There you go,” Stephen said, setting the candles in a brown paper bag. “Now I can finally get rid of you. Dunno why I always end up getting all the problem customers.” He held the bag out toward Tony with a grin that contradicted his words.

“Must be karma,” Tony grinned back. When he took the proffered sack he purposefully brushed his hand against Stephen’s as he promised, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

Stephen didn’t pull his hand away, and as he met Tony’s eyes a spark like a low voltage electric charge ran from where their skin met though Tony’s whole hand. “I’ll look forward to it,” Stephen said, not breaking eye contact. “Goodbye for now, and thanks for shopping at Kamar-Taj. Have a blessed day.”

Reluctantly, Tony started towards the door, calling back as he did, “I already have.”

The stubborn door didn’t give him any trouble as he left, and soon he was standing out on the quiet street again, the bag in his hand the only proof that the little interlude in the dusty shop hadn’t been a dream. 

Curious, he looked down at his still tingling hand only to gape at the words had somehow appeared written on his palm. They read, “For personal mystic consultations” followed by a phone number. Tony stared at the bold, black letters for a long time, trying to work out how Stephen had put them there. Eventually he admitted it was a mystery beyond him, much like the man who’d done it and he was better off not questioning his good fortune. It would give him something to ponder until he got to see Stephen again. 

He programed the number into his phone with a smile before continuing down the street, making it all the way to the corner before he remembered that he had no idea where he was.


End file.
